


Whoops

by Nabeerie



Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Kirby (Video Games), Kirby - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:20:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nabeerie/pseuds/Nabeerie
Summary: A joke Nightmare/Reader fic with a gender neutral reader in the second person. please don't take this seriously I don't know why this happened. also technically my first reader SI fic





	Whoops

You didn't want to be here, that much was for certain. You had the misfortune of meeting and then somehow charming a man that had the reddest, most stereotypically evil eyes you had ever seen. He invited you to a "company ball", as he had put it, handing you an invitation a grand total of four minutes into a polite (if very awkward) unsolicited conversation on the street. The kunai hanging casually out of his pocket pushed you to accept. There was no way in hell you were getting stabbed today. You'd take the envelope, go home, and throw it in the garbage like you did with religious pamphlets and junk mail. But the walk home got you thinking. What did you do all day, anyways? Sit around bored and browse the outernet? Stare at the wall? Wouldn't it be better to actually go out and socialize with others for once? 

A lapse of reason and common sense resulted in you actually showing up. There were maybe forty other people of various species' waiting with you at the entrance. When the gate opened you followed after them into an ominous courtyard filled with dead trees and withering roses. The building was just as drab, with plain, darkly painted hallways. You were led into a conference room filled with rows of chairs. A single, large door was the only feature at the top of the room. A projector hung from the ceiling. You had the distinct sense you had fallen for a ruse. 

After what felt like ages, the initial presentation had come to a close at last. You had been shown nearly a hundred different "demon beasts" since you came in. An ugly little man cheerfully explained the features and pricing of various creatures and gave demonstrations on glycerin dummies. You would've left, but the first couple who tried were dragged away by cloaked figures the moment they crossed the doorway. 

Now you stood alone in a large, oddly dark room with a domed ceiling, wearing a suit that was a bit too large in the shoulders and a bit too wide in the leg. There wasn't much time to prepare before the ball, and evidently the other guests had the same problem. Cocktail dresses mixed with proper gowns and bridesmaid's leftovers. Black tie mingled with business formal. 

A gentle, dull waltz played in the background on a live band of monsters. From time to time you could spot employees in navy suits with oddly-colored skin and eyes. People had grown used to their presence after the presentation and paid them no real mind, aside from keeping their distance. No one danced, standing in small, dense clusters that only moved to avoid others. You were positioned near a wall, watching everyone else. 

"My, now this isn't a party! Where are all the dancers? Where's the fun?" An enormous wizard had appeared in the room, his starry cape brushing the floor as it undulated on its own. Every employee backed up and dropped to one knee, staring pointedly at the floor. Everyone else in the room followed suit, but you stayed frozen in place against the wall. Maybe if I stay still he won't see me. 

But of course you had no such luck. You were now the tallest thing in the room. The only person not bowing. He swept over to you, staring down at you behind his shades. "Here's the fun! A wallflower, and a bold one at that." Your back hit the wall, but it refused to swallow you as you intended. A thin, almost metallic silver arm with long fingers extended towards you, palm (what little there was of one) up. 

There's you, there's everyone unfortunate to share a room with this, and there's the mass of grinning teeth and blanket between you and the door. Even if you ran for it, making it was doubtful. So you took the hand offered and took a step out, beginning a careful waltz. Or what would pass for careful, if your dance partner weren't over twice your height and a terrible dancer. With no legs to stop him he moved far too quickly, dragging you with him until your feet left the ground. As the speed increased he ended up lifting you from the floor entirely, spinning you in what passed as steps for him. You caught a glimpse of the red-eyed man who had invited you staring with longing. 

Nightmare (as he had named himself to you) continued to spin you slowly. Employees had chosen guests to dance with and waltzed along the edges. You pretended not to notice the number of guests dwindling or the pairs disappearing through the back doors. You were with the boss. As long as you didn't cause any sort of a fuss you figured you'd be fine, and being fine at the end of this was all that mattered. You busied yourself with staring into the beautiful starfields inside your partner's cape. He didn't seem to have a body, or really anything beyond a head and arms. He managed to fit a large amount of tacky jewelry onto what little body he had, however. 

Nightmare's steps began to slow. "Hmm. I'm bored. Let's do something else." And with that you found yourself sitting at a table, already leaning toward intently with a hand supporting your chin. Nightmare spoke at length about himself and his plans, going on and on about his galactic conquest in the biggest words he could muster. Mezzanine wasn't a type of military maneuver, but at least he knew the word existed. You held your position, only moving to try the odd, tar-black soup served to you (salty, oddly sweet in a marine sort of way) and to ask clarifying questions as needed to keep him going. Nightmare was happy to boast about his warships and the number of people he had converted to monsters. He had great plans, he said, ones where everyone in the universe was united under a single brand and he stood at the forefront, guiding the masses towards a darker future. The enthusiasm he spoke with stirred a bit in you despite yourself. 

When he grew bored of talking about himself (long after your soup had gone cold), he turned to you. Nightmare finally asked for your name, your age, and where you lived. He soon followed with your favorite color, your family, your opinions on authoritarian imperialist capitalism, and what job you did. When he grew bored of that, you poofed into a vast dungeon system and rode on his shoulder as he described the various monsters he planned to create with his numerous prisoners of war. One hand stayed on you at all times to keep you from falling. A finger brushed your cheek. 

Next you were sent to a small room where you played various card games with an increasingly exasperated dealer. They joined your conversation as you discussed the various schools of monster design and the importance of function over form. After he grew bored of that you were moved to his trophy room, where he kept both his golden awards and the taxidermied bodies of rulers whose regions he had conquered. It was, admittedly, pretty metal. 

Finally you were taken to an ornately decorated bedroom with a massive four-poster in the center. He slid you from his shoulder and tucked you beneath the covers, heedless of the fact you were still wearing your suit. "This was fun! Call the servants if you need anything. They'll bring breakfast in the morning. Sleep well, dearest!" And with that he disappeared, this time without you. A glance out the window revealed you were on a barren planet with sparse vegetation much unlike your own. Ah.


End file.
